


Simple Things

by Regann



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regann/pseuds/Regann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bryce gives Chuck a choice; sometimes all it takes are simple things to make a man happy. [Set after S2 finale; ignores canon from S3 onward]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Things

She meets them as soon as they move into the apartment above hers, one day as she's heading out for work. Like always, she's harried and hurried, rummaging through her purse to make sure she hasn't forgotten her work badge once again. When the front door of the building opens magically, she looks up in surprise, only to find herself staring into the bluest eyes she's ever seen.

His name is Neil, and he's movie-star handsome, the way people rarely are in real life. His smile is a stunner, too, and his delivery perfect as he introduces first himself, then the strikingly tall man who waits patiently behind him, his arms full with a box that aptly reads "Stuff." He's Tim, and though he's not nearly as heart-stopping as his friend, he's warm and polite, which already wins her over, given the number of assholes who have lived there in the past.

The three of them chat for a moment, until her cellphone rings and reminds her that she's running late for work.

"I'm right below you," she tells as she heads down the stairs. "If you have questions or whatever, just let me know."

"Sure thing," Tim says. "Thanks."

As she peels out of the drive, she thinks back over the conversation she's just had and rolls her eyes, wondering why her new neighbors bothered with the whole roommate explanation, even it's obvious that there's something more going on there.

After all: like all the rest, their apartment only has one bedroom.

**

Chuck had barely started to deal with his grief over Bryce's second demise when he discovered that he'd cheated death once again.

It had started as a weird feeling that someone was watching him -- not Casey or Sarah, who weren't that subtle in their surveillance. It had lasted several days, then weeks, until every sound and shadow made him jump. Finally, when it had seemed like his only option was to submit himself to protective custody or a psych ward, one of the shadows he'd feared turned out to be a person.

Bryce.

Chuck hadn't believed his eyes, the too-quick glimpse of that familiar face as he walked through the empty, dark Buy More parking lot. But then he'd come home to a carefully hidden, carefully coded note that could have only been penned by his supposedly-dead friend-turned-nemesis-turned-friend. The note led Chuck to the Ascot Inn, to a room that might've been rented by the hour, complete with a heart-shaped Jacuzzi and mirrored ceiling.

And waiting there, amid the gaudy opulence, stood Bryce, living and breathing and looking like the best thing Chuck had seen in forever.

"What the hell is going on?"

Bryce explained his rebirth, the same combination of luck and skill that had saved him before. He faltered as he reached the end of his tale, blue eyes wide and solemn as he looked at Chuck. "I'm sorry, you know," he said, almost out of nowhere. "I never wanted this life for you, ever. It's why I went to Fleming, back at Stanford. I wanted...I wanted everything for you, Chuck. I wanted you to have your dreams, to be that guy you wanted to be."

"Me, too," he admitted quietly. "At least back then. But it's been a long since that's what I wanted. Ever since I got this thing in my head, my priorities have changed a lot."

Bryce looked -- intrigued. "What do you want now?"

Chuck had to think about it, about all the things he wanted. "I want to be free," he finally said. "From everything -- the Intersect, the CIA, the NSA, the lies, the fear. I want a normal life, Bryce, but I doubt that's ever going to happen."

Bryce moved forward in a sudden burst of activity that startled Chuck after they'd been still for so long. "What if I can give you that? Would you take it?"

"What are you talking about?"

Bryce crossed his arms, locking his eyes with Chuck's. "I'm tired, Chuck. I've died three times in two years, and I want out of the game. So I'm retiring myself."

"They'll let you do that?"

"They can't stop me," Bryce told him. "I didn't get released from the hospital this time. I faked my own death and I left." His face softened. "You're my last stop before I'm gone. I had to make sure you were all right."

"So no one knows...? Not even Sarah?"

"Just you, Chuck," he said. He held out his hand. "Come with me."

"What?"

"Come with me, Chuck," Bryce said, his voice soft, deep, cajoling. "Leave it all behind. We can start over somewhere else, be someone else, and never have to deal with spies or the Intersect or any of that ever again."

Chuck wasn't sure he could even speak; he just kept gaping at Bryce.

"It's up to you," Bryce continued. "It won't be easy -- you'll have to leave Ellie, Morgan, everything from your old life behind. But you'll be free, if that's you want."

"I...I...can't do that, Bryce. I can't leave. I mean, Ellie..."

Bryce smiled, but it was sad. "Think about it. Take your time. I'll be in town for another three days." Chuck felt Bryce press something into his hands -- a disposable cell phone with one number programmed into it. "This is how you can reach me."

It only took Chuck two days to call Bryce and say one word, "Yes."

The next thing he remembered was the lulling back-and-forth motion of the car around him as it sped down an open highway, Bryce in his fancy shades at the wheel. Chuck didn't know where they were going or what they were going to do, but just looking at Bryce -- unguardedly happy, so much like the Bryce he'd met in college -- relaxed some of the knots in his stomach that said he'd regret this one day.

Maybe he wouldn't.

"Won't they come looking for me?" Chuck asked once he was fully awake.

"I staged a little diversion," Bryce explained. "Your watch is buried beneath a few tons of rubble in a building that the Russian mob was using as a front. There's probably a few dozen unidentifiable bodies in there, too."

"You killed them?"

A muscle in Bryce's jaw ticked. "It was someone else's job. I just took advantage."

"So everyone will think I'm dead?" Chuck asked, not sure if that made him feel better or worse.

"That's the plan," Bryce said, risking a glance at him as he drove. "I know it's hard, but without a clean break..."

"I know," he nodded.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chuck saw Bryce's hands tighten on the wheel. "You can still change your mind, you know. We're only a couple of hours from--"

"No, I'm good," Chuck assured him. "I'm good."

Bryce shot him a grin and his hands relaxed their grip. "Then sit back and relax, my friend. I'll let you know where we're going when we get there."

**

It doesn't take long until she considers herself, if not friends with Tim and Neil, at least friendly with them. The apartment shares a common laundry room, two washing machines and two dryers on the screened back porch, and she tends to be spend her Saturday mornings there. It turns out that Tim has a similar habit, and they bond over the folding table.

This is where she learns that they moved to town not because Tim has a job downtown (while nice, he's obviously nerdy, and it made sense that he had a position with one of the tech firms) but because Neil has one, in the pits of one of the huge banking conglomerates. She doesn't quite buy Neil as an accounting drone but she's not as far off on Tim as she thought -- he does work with computers, doing IT for a (slightly shady) internet sweepstakes company. Liz, who works in a call center where people can buy "as seen on TV" merchandise sympathizes with his chagrin when admitting this fact.

They're aren't just nice, though -- they're helpful, too, which is why Tim comes down one evening to check on her non-functional computer, when she decides to say, "I notice you and Neil don't go out much."

He shrugs. "Yeah, we're sort of homebodies." He frowns at the black screen, and then up at Liz. "Are you a fan of Serbian porn stars? Because I think I've seen this virus before."

Liz gives a look and decides to ignore the obvious non sequitur. "My friend and I are going out tonight. You and Neil are welcome to tag along."

"We wouldn't want to intrude, I mean..."

"No, it's fine," she assures him truthfully. "We do it almost every Friday night. It's not much -- we just head over to this sports bar down the street and hang for a few hours. But it's fun."

She can see the indecision in his eyes. "Yeah, sounds great, but I'll have to ask B-- that is, my b-- Neil. I'll have to see what Neil's got planned."

"We leave at eight," she tells him, feeling that she's won. "Just come on down a little before that, if you want to come along."

Tim nods and heads off, presumably to ask Neil about their plans for the evening, and she can't help but wonder again about all the secrecy they have about their (definitely romantic) relationship.

It's obvious to Liz that Tim was about to call Neil his boyfriend.

**

They drove for days, scenery passing in a blur, until Chuck began to wonder if they'd ever reach an actual destination. He'd offered to do some of the driving early on but Bryce had waved him off, so they continued on in the same pattern -- driving, briefs stays at roadside motels, followed by more driving.

Despite Bryce's confidence, Chuck worried that it had been too simple for it to be over. Would Sarah and Casey fall for the scene Bryce had staged for them? Had he himself faked his death beyond a shadow of a doubt?

Would Chuck really be able to live with never seeing Ellie or Morgan or Awesome again?

Chuck must have shifted in his seat or something, because he'd drawn Bryce's attention his way.

"You okay, Chuck?"

"I'm fine. Just cramped from all this sitting."

Bryce didn't speak for a moment, then, "They were going to kill you, you know. When they thought they had a new Intersect. I didn't find out until later, or else I'd have come back then."

A year ago, Chuck might not have believed him; but he'd learned better. "Why bring that up now?"

"Because you're regretting," Bryce said. "I can hear the gears in your head turning."

"That's creepy," Chuck protested, trying not to focus on how close he'd come to dying at the hands of his government. "How do you do that?"

"I just know you," Bryce said. "I don't want you to have any regrets."

Chuck almost swore he heard what Bryce meant: I just wanted you to come with me.

"Would you have told me if I hadn't agreed to come with you? To help 'persuade' me?"

"I don't know," Bryce admitted after a moment. "I'm not sure what I would've done. I had hope you'd say yes."

Chuck wondered if maybe Bryce had more faith in him than he did, because he hadn't ever expected to have the courage to leave everything behind, and he'd only made it this far on one rash moment that couldn't be undone. But it had felt right the moment he'd made the call, and it still felt right, even with the regrets churning in his head.

In college, he had always trusted himself when he followed Bryce's lead; maybe he just needed to remember that for awhile.

**

"I think your gaydar is off," her friend Deva announces one night as she arrives at Liz's apartment. "I just passed Tim and he was totally checking out my ass."

Even after a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, dressed in scrubs, Deva looks better than Liz ever could with hours of preparation. Luckily, her jealousy has long since faded into affection.

"Whatever," she says over the edge of both her glasses and her laptop. "That's your infatuation with Neil talking."

One of the best things she's done in the past few months is invite Tim and Neil out with her and her friends; one of the worst was introducing Neil to Deva. Like Neil, her friend is gorgeous, charming, almost larger than life, and definitely used to getting what she wants. The fact that Neil is immune to her considerable charms has given her a new mission in life.

"If he's gay, he'd just say so," Deva declares, on the basis of nothing. "But he hasn't, so he's not."

They've had this conversation several times which is why Liz just sighs. "They are," she insists. "I've seen them together. They're...they're cute."

Deva seems unconvinced.

"They are," she says again. "They have all these little looks, and gestures, and affectionate little inside jokes, and...hell, they speak Klingon to each other. It's ---"

"...horribly nerdy." Deva wrinkles her nose. "And you're just as bad, for even recognizing it!"

"Guilty as charged." Feeling a little mischievous, she can't help but add, "They probably speak it in bed."

Deva makes a face that makes Liz laugh and laugh. And later that night, despite herself, she listens for the sounds of breaking glass and guttural poetry.

**

Eventually, they reached some flat, lonely state that might've been Kansas or Oklahoma, where Bryce chose to stop at a dingy roadside diner. Inside the diner, the air was heavy with the smells of grease and frying meat. They took a booth in the back, sitting across from each other, studying the menus their gum-popping waitress handed them.

Chuck ordered a hamburger, Bryce a chicken sandwich, but as she turned to go, he added, "And can you tell the cook I need an ostrich egg sunny side up? She should've gotten them in this morning."

Chuck shot Bryce a strange look but the waitress didn't bat an eyelash. When she returned with their food, Chuck noticed an envelope stuck to the bottom of Bryce's plate, one he quickly slid into the pocket of his leather jacket. That earned him another look from Chuck, but all the answer he gave was one of those rakish smiles.

"What was that about?" Chuck finally asked when they headed outside, back to their car.

"Don't worry," Bryce said. "I'll tell you later."

"Later" wasn't until several days after they'd left the diner. By then, they had ended up somewhere hot and sticky, so humid that Chuck was sure he could die from it, even with the car's A/C cranked as high as it could go. After they had settled into their room for the night and ordered Chinese for dinner, they sat across from each other on one of the beds and Bryce took the envelope from his pocket. He spilled its contents between them, and Chuck looked down to find himself staring back at him from one of the plastic rectangles. He picked it up and studied it, finally realizing what it was.

"Where did you get these?" Chuck asked, picking up another card. What he had was a whole new identity -- a driver's license, social security card, even a passport. There were also a few credit cards, issued in the name on the license.

"I had a few favors to call in," Bryce said, busy examining his own new set.

Chuck squinted at the tiny writing in the dim light. "So I'm who now? Timothy Williams. Where did you come up with that?"

Bryce shrugged. "My, ah, friend picked it. But Williams...happens to be my grandmother's maiden name."

"Interesting," Chuck said, mostly because he couldn't figure out what else to say. He picked up Bryce's fake license and examined his new name. "So you're Neil Carmichael now?"

"Seems so." Bryce didn't look up from where he was still checking over the passport.

Chuck wondered if that was a coincidence, too.

**

Despite her initial certainty, Liz sometimes wonders if she's wrong about Tim and Neil. She never sees anything aside from the looks between them, and she supposes it's possible that they have managed to stuff two sleeping spaces into the precious little rooms the apartment allows. She's never been in theirs, so she can only speculate.

As the weather warms up, everyone who lives in the building -- the occupants of all six apartments -- find reasons to loiter on the large front lawn, or on the shady wraparound porch. She likes to hang out on the porch swing, rocking idly as she reads, trying to make up for all the hours she spends inside behind a computer all the other months of the year.

One day she's joined by Tim and Neil.

It's obviously Neil's idea; he's grinning and tossing a football between his hands.

"Come on," he urges, looking up to where Tim stand uncertainly on top step of the porch. "A little game of toss, that's all I ask."

"Because I'm so good at sports," Tim snorts, shaking his head. "You just want to humiliate me, right?"

The smile stays but it changes into something less playful, but no less fond. "It just reminds me of when I met you," Neil tells him softly.

Liz keeps her head down, but she can tell by the way Tim ducks his, he's embarrassed. "That was a long time ago."

"But we're staring over, right?" Neil tosses the ball and Tim manages to catch it, though without much grace.

Tim looks at the ball in his hands, and then he smiles back. "Yeah, we are."

When her neighbors are firmly engaged in their game of toss, Liz risks a quick look up at them, lit by the brightness of the afternoon sun.

Sometimes she doubts her own conclusions about them, but in the moments like this, those doubts disappear.

**

Finally, they reached their elusive destination, only a few hours' drive from the hotel where Bryce had handed over his new identification. It was a mid-size city with a population of about half-a-million; in Bryce's words, big enough to get lost in, but not big enough to bring too much trouble to town.

Chuck was amazed at how quickly he and Bryce settled into their new lives and new routines. Partly, it was because Bryce had started building it before he had even approached Chuck, but it was still incredible. They already had a place lined up, a room rented directly from an elderly woman whose husband had had his childhood home converted into apartments. Bryce had a job for Neil too, one of a thousand in the headquarters of some bank, where one more accountant was not bound to arouse much interest.

Once they had moved into the apartment and used some throwaway credit cards to furnish it, Chuck spent his time on Craiglist trolling for employment, which Bryce had advised him to find as far off the grid as possible. He ended up with the perfect job, one that played to his non-Intersect skills as well as Bryce's under-the-radar stipulation.

Days not spent tweaking firewalls for YourCashIsWaiting.com were passed at the apartment or exploring the mundane realities of living so far away from home for the first time. Everything about this new city was unfamiliar to him, from the sticky climate to the drawling accent shared by so many of its inhabitants.

In every moment he didn't fill with activity, Chuck missed his old life. He missed Ellie and Morgan and Sarah; he even missed Casey, sometimes. There were still parts of this new life that reminded him of the old one: the way Bryce kept up security at their apartment, the way he remained aware of everything around him. It was a strange mix of his pre- and post-Intersect days that still didn't feel quite right, not yet. But there were some things about his new life that did feel right, felt more right than things ever had before.

Things like -- Bryce.

Chuck was fascinated by him, this Bryce that was so much like the old one he'd spent three years with at Stanford, but without that edge he'd come to associate with secrets and the CIA. It was like every mile they put between them and California, and now every day that passed, eased some unknown tension in Bryce, allowed him to relax just a little bit more into the Neil persona.

And every night, when he came home from his drone job at the bank, Bryce smiled when he first saw Chuck in the apartment and that smile always felt like something rare and precious and other things he couldn't name.

There were a lot things he liked about being Tim -- he liked his new job, and the lack of serious bodily harm he faced on a daily basis, and his neighbor Liz who was always in a hurry but who didn't mind chatting for hours if he caught her doing laundry. He liked the Thai place around the corner with the sarcastic delivery girl who bitched about the puny tips, and the way the evenings were balmy and almost reminded him of home. His days were made of quiet, mundane things, and he liked that, too. Chuck had worried he'd missed the danger and excitement of the spy scene, but he didn't; it was obvious Bryce didn't either, which surprised him too.

So every time Liz's friend Deva achingly reminded him of Ellie when he saw her in her scrubs, Chuck just remembered the little things -- like Bryce's welcome-home smile -- that made it worthwhile.

Weeks turned into months, and the new life started to feel old. Comfortable. Like it was really his. Chuck hadn't ever been sure that was going to happen, but it was.

From what they could tell, it looked like they had fooled everyone with their fake deaths, and they had succeeded in breaking ties with the past. Chuck's flashes, which had worried Bryce from the beginning, were few and far between; only once did he flash on something of actual importance, and Bryce had disappeared for days, returning only to tell Chuck that it had been taken care of. Chuck still wasn't sure if Bryce had 'taken care of' it himself or just passed the information on to someone who could. Chuck was just glad he'd returned in one piece.

They had started to feel so comfortable, Chuck should've expected something to change.

**

It's late and she's late -- like always -- saddled with bags of groceries and a mental to-do list a mile long. She's got plans, none of which involve struggling in through the back door, but that's exactly what she's doing, all the while cursing under her breath about anything she possibly blame for her predicament.

She's so involved in her own whirlwind of frustration that she barely notices them when she takes her first few steps onto the darkened porch, automatically stopping the screen door from slamming with a well-placed heel.

But then she does see them, pressed together in a corner of the laundry-room-slash-sunroom, settled on the ancient couch where she and Tim usually huddle between cycles of fluff and fold on Saturdays.

Neil's got his hands under Tim's shirt, and Tim's are curled over Neil's shoulders like he's holding on for dear life, which he well might be -- Neil looks pretty serious about the way his mouth is moving against Tim's, as he presses their bodies together. One of them moans -- she really can't tell which, despite her familiarity with their voices -- and then Tim is one the crushing them together, his arms going around Neil to pull him close.

For a moment, she's frozen, feeling intrusive and uncomfortable at having witnessed this private moment, even if they're having it in a less-than-private place. Then she snaps into action and tightens her hold on her bags.

"Roommates, my ass," she mutters under her breath, as she barrels past them in feigned oblivion.

As she heads down toward her apartment, she adds one more task to her plans, though: calling up Deva to gloat about how right she'd been all along.

**

Even after they gave Liz quite a show when she'd cut through the laundry room, Chuck wasn't quite sure how they'd even ended up in what he was sure Ellie would've called a 'clinch.' The evening had started out nice enough, he and Bryce relaxing on the screened porch, enjoying the warm evening. Stars had dotted the dark sky, vibrant even through the screen and the light pollution of the city.

"Are you happy?" Bryce had asked, voice soft and eyes softer.

Chuck had had to think about it before he answered. "Yeah," he'd finally said. "It's not perfect, but yeah. I'm happy." As he'd said it, he'd realized it was the truth.

Bryce had smiled until the skin around his eyes crinkled. "I'm glad. That's what I always wanted for you. "

That had reminded Chuck of the conversation that had put them on the road to this new life, about how Bryce had said he'd always wanted Chuck to have his dreams. He'd thought back even farther, to when he'd first seen the DVD of Fleming and Bryce, knowing that Bryce had sacrificed their friendship to save him.

Then he'd remembered what Bryce had told him one night in the shadows of the courtyard of Ellie's apartment: Someday you're going to realize I was looking out for you. I have been all along.

Chuck had suddenly looked at Bryce like he'd never seen him before. And maybe he hadn't.

Bryce had noticed the look and frowned. "Chuck..?"

But that had been all he'd managed to say before Chuck had kissed him, throwing himself at him in a way that Bryce hadn't minded in the least, which had led to the clinch in question.

After Liz hastily disappeared, Bryce laughingly pulled away, then pulled him up and propelled him toward the stairs leading back to their apartment. They made it about half-way up before they succumbed to passion again, careening off the walls as they tried to climb and rope each other all at the same time. While Bryce might've had super-spy grace and multitasking skills, Chuck wasn't so good at it. That fact didn't stop him from trying, though, his hands in Bryce's hair as he held him still for another kiss.

Bryce held on enthusiastically, fingers dipping under the waistband of Chuck's jeans, flitting over skin that had been bereft of touch for so long it was almost enough to set Chuck off. Almost.

When they had reached their door, Bryce pulled back a little, a smile still fixed on his kiss-swollen mouth as he reached into Chuck's pocket for the door keys.

"Grabby, aren't you?" Chuck laughed.

"When I can get away with it," Bryce teased, managing to unlock and open the door without losing their eye contact. They were pressed together everywhere they could be, and Chuck couldn't break away from where his eyes traveled over Bryce's face, over the expression he'd seen there so many times since they'd met, some Bryce-specific mix of fondness and humor that seemed reserved just for Chuck.

It finally hit him in that moment. "It really has been all about me?" he blurted out, unable to stop himself.

Bryce grabbed him by the belt and tugged him toward the door. They barely made it over the threshold before Bryce was kissing him again.

"Always," he whispered between them, the word muffled by the press of their mouths and bodies.

Chuck still heard it loud and clear, wondering why it had taken him so long to realize something so simple.

But sometimes, he mused as he let Bryce lead him to the bedroom, it was the simple things people missed -- like love and dreams and happiness, even when it was staring them in the face.

Chuck vowed to never take the simple things for granted ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published 12/2009 on LJ.


End file.
